


Yeah, Shut Up, Justice

by Arathergrimreaper



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Nothing serious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 09:33:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7165724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arathergrimreaper/pseuds/Arathergrimreaper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thought I would hop on the good foot, do the bad thing, and write up a ficlet involving my favorite theory about what will happen if the Veil is taken down.</p><p>Elves getting their mojo-I mean, magic back, baby!</p><p>i.e. Fenris is having A Bad Time(tm) and Anders just wants to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yeah, Shut Up, Justice

**Author's Note:**

> This is a complete work. I have too many other unfinished stories to be starting other things right now. Got inspired to jot this down though (I say "jot" like I didn't spend five hours on this between lollygagging on tumblr and snacks, but you know)

“Concentrate.”

“I _am_ concentrating. Be quiet.”

“It’s going to—”

The bubble of magic between Fenris’ lyrium-lined hands wobbled and burst, showering their laps in heatless sparks.

With a growl of frustration, the elf was on his feet, nearly storming out of the room before Anders caught his arm, Justice purring at the contact.

“You don’t see it, but you _are_ making progress.” he said, hoping he sounded less exhausted than he felt.

“I distinctly remember telling you to never touch me while we are engaging in these asinine lessons, mage.”

Anders’ mouth turned up in a wry grin as he slowly released him. “You say that like you aren’t one too now.”

“Do not remind me.” Fenris spat, disgust lining his dark features. “When I get my hands on the fool that destroyed the Veil, his heart will not be the only thing I crush.”

“It’s not all that bad, elves having magic again, is it? It actually seems to have leveled the playing field some, in my opinion.”

Fenris’ emerald eyes narrowed and he stalked forward, crowding Anders nearly into the wardrobe. His tattoos flared with light and the singing Justice always spoke of so fondly filled their mind, rendering the spirit unresponsive.

“My skin feels as though I have been dipped in acid, I keep freezing and exploding wine bottles, and, now, I have to deal with the abomination who ruined everything in the vain hope I may one day be able to ignore this unnatural power until I can rid myself of it.” he said, voice low and promising a very violent death.

“Fenris, calm down, you really are setting the table on fire this time.”

Fenris’ expression went from furious to terrified in an instant, and he turned to eye the smoking table legs with dismay.

Anders sighed and reached for him again, stopping just short of his cheek when he remembered his dislike of touch.

“Listen to me,” he said, letting his hand fall, “you cannot fear yourself and master your magic. It’s just not possible, Fenris.”

“I do not want to master it.” Fenris said, not looking at him.

“Well, you’ll have to if you want to start living your life again. You can’t think of it as this separate entity you can stuff in some chest and forget about. It’s a part of you.”

When green eyes finally met brown, Anders saw a pitiable amount of suffering there. More than when their odd little family had been forced to flee Kirkwall due to his and Justice’s actions. More, even, than when Varania had sold him out to Danarius.

“Why do I seem to be put together from things I despise?” Fenris asked, eyes shining suspiciously even as he huffed out a laugh. He brought his hand up to brush at the tattoos on his throat, glancing back at the table as he sunk his teeth into his lip.

_**He has been wronged since his birth.** _ Justice supplied gently.

 _Yeah, he has._ Anders confirmed. 

_**We should help.** _

**__**What do you think I’m trying to do?

_**You are not very good at helping him.** _

_Thanks, Justice._

“Want to try something else?” Anders asked aloud.

“Like what?” Fenris sent him a withering look. “Nothing helps.”

“We could always get fall-down drunk and whine about our lives. We’re really good at that.”

The snort of laughter the response produced was worth the glare he got immediately afterwards.

“Getting drunk with you was not wise even before I had magic, mage.”

Anders placed a hand over his heart, adopting a look of mock affront.

“Forgive me for my poor memory, but I was sure you were having just as good a time as I was.” he said. When Fenris’ cheeks and ears reddened, he added, “ I’ll have you know, I could not sit without wincing for a week.”

“Why did you not heal yourself?”

Feeling his own face get hot, Anders cleared his throat and said,

“At any rate, that’s enough practice for today. Go find some other apostate to terrorize.”

Fenris’ stare pinned him in place, drifting down his taller form in a slow caress. Anders practically melted under it.

“We are both apostates now, I suppose.” the elf remarked thoughtfully, twirling a lock of his, now waist-length, white hair around a slender finger.

“Not planning to turn yourself into a Circle like the other scared elves running around?” Anders asked, glad to be on another subject.

“I. . .I have spent the majority of my life under someone else’s orders and supervision.” Fenris said hollowly. “Never again.”

“You can do this, Fenris.” Anders assured him. “It’s just like learning how to read: You start with letters and work your way up to words, then sentences, then paragraphs. Small spells then big ones, then eventually—.”

“I succumb to some demons’ lies?”

“No.” Anders barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “You eventually get so used to your magic, you almost start taking it for granted. Stop thinking about having to use it at all, really. The main thing is, you could seriously hurt someone if you don’t keep yourself in check.”

“Is that not always the story with magic?”

“Magic isn’t the sword here, though. You are. Consider magic the fancy rune set into the pommel. You need to practice and keep _yourself_ sharp, not the rune. The rune is not removable so it’s limiting depending on what kind it is, but the sword is what’s being wielded for whatever motivation. The rune’s affect is secondary. Make sense?”

“Strangely, yes.” Fenris sounded impressed with the analogy.

“Good. And with that bit of wisdom, I’m off.” Anders said, heading for the loft stairs. It was best he never spent too much time with the elf lest they both finally get fed up and throttle one another.

“To where?”

“Wherever the wind takes me. Probably a tavern. You may not be in the mood, but I need a drink or five.”

As he was about step outside, however, Fenris called after him,

“Mage.”

“Yes?”

Fenris stood at the top of the stairs looking torn for almost a full minute. Finally, he mumbled something too low for Anders to hear.

“What?”

“I said. . .thank you.”

With that, he disappeared back inside his room and shut the door, leaving Anders smirking in the entryway.

_**Perhaps there is hope for you yet.** _

_Shut up, Justice._

 

 


End file.
